


some would sing and some would scream

by Elsinore_and_Inverness



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Book: Thud!, Multi, the Summoning Dark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25881694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsinore_and_Inverness/pseuds/Elsinore_and_Inverness
Summary: This is about the Summoning Dark and really dumb word association
Relationships: Rufus Drumknott & Havelock Vetinari & Samuel Vimes, Sybil Ramkin/Havelock Vetinari/Samuel Vimes
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	some would sing and some would scream

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously the title’s from Arsonist’s Lullaby

“Lady Sybil to see you, sir,” Drumknott said.

Vetinari looked up from the veritable mountain of clacks messages from Überwald. This would be about Vimes. As though Sybil didn’t know that Vetinari was so worried that his body had decided this was a reason to be in physical pain.

“Show her in,” he said, waving a hand. 

“You’re making him keep too long hours,” Sybil said, entering the room. “It’s not good for him. It’s leading up to collapse.”

Vetinari pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sybil, I haven’t seen your husband for days. He’s been skipping appointments. I’m not sure it’s _possible_ to want him do more than he wants to do.”

“He thinks you’re upset with him and going to, quote, ‘drag him over the coals.’”

Vetinari looked slightly shocked. “I just wanted the paperwork to get done.”

“Get him to stop. You can make him take a rest even if no one else can.”

“You’re his wife.”

“It’ll take both of us, then. How are you holding up?”

Everyone asked ‘why is Vetinari?’ and ‘what is Vetinari?’ but Sybil was one of the few who thought to ask ‘how is Vetinari?’

“Fine. Tired. The usual.” 

Seemingly from nowhere Sibyl produced an apple and handed it to him. 

“Sibyl, I—“

“Do I need to be worrying about you, too?”

He bit into the apple. It was too sweet and too soft. It probably wasn’t actually overripe but he suspected the piece of fruit had been abandoned by Sam at some point in the recent past. 

“We’ll all three of us look after each other. I’ll command the Commander to show up, how’s that sound?”

“I’ll make sure he can get home to sleep.”

  * — -



Drumknott didn’t completely understand why Samuel Vimes was perfectly happy to look like a dead man walking in front of the entire city but demanded to look neat and presentable before facing Vetinari. Vimes had made badly dressed and unshaven into an art form, but here Drumknott was, heating water and finding the razor that informally belonged to the Duke of Ankh. 

It wasn’t as though Vetinari couldn’t hear all of this happening just outside his door. Drumknott had read somewhere that, while having a crush on someone often meant spending hours on your appearance, being in love meant you’d show up on time even if you showed up looking like a drowned rat. Of course it was quite possible Vimes was just trying to feel more put-together and not worry Vetinari. Either way it was kind of... sweet. He was not going to acknowledge this because he did not know how an extremely sleep-deprived Vimes would handle that conversation.

  * —



When Vimes returned from Koom Valley, battered and bruised, Vetinari saw the shape of the burn scar on his wrist. 

“It’s just an oil burn,” Vimes said.

“Sir Samuel, contrary to your rather idiosyncratically held belief, refusing to acknowledge things does not cause them not to exist.”

Vimes stared at the mark of the Summoning Dark. “What does it mean for me?”

“I thought that you would best it. Defeat it in some way. Drumknott—“ the Patrician directed a half-second grin toward his secretary, “is a bit more clear-sighted than I am. He doesn’t believe in things. I thought he meant it would be too close to call, but I realize now he foresaw what would happen. You’ve made a kind of truce. An agreement.”

“So it’s... inside of me?”

“It’s a pan-dimensional quasidemonic entity,” Vetinari said languidly. “Inside, around, behind, ahead of, before, after... other prepositions that we can’t comprehend.” 

“Part of.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s part of me now. If there are fates out there weaving the thread of my life—“

“Spinning.”

“Pardon?” Vimes asked.

“You make thread by spinning, not weaving.”

“Well, I was going to say they’ve woven in the thread of the Summoning Dark, but apparently I’m wrong. Apparently they spun in the thread.” Vimes was making eye contact with Drumknott, wondering if he could get the little man to react if he hit the ‘apparently’s hard enough. Drumknott seemed to be in full agreement with this emendation. “Like a meringue,” Vimes concluded. 

“Candy floss, maybe, not a meringue,” Drumknott said gravely.

Vetinari was laughing. Then Vimes was laughing, the silly relieved laugh of exhaustion. Somewhere in, around, behind, ahead, before, after, and part of (and other prepositions in eleven dimensions, but not more because that would be silly) Vimes, the Summoning Dark laughed too.

Drumknott smiled. Sometimes it was okay to be right. 


End file.
